Summary: When Lindsay, Danny, and Hawkes are processing a scene, a suspect is found hiding in a closet. A shoot-out ensues, and during it Danny saves Lindsay's life. But can Danny live through his wounds?
Disclaimer: I still don't own them. Why do I always say that? ;)
Chapter: I'm thinking a grand total of three, with maybe an epilogue of sorts :)
Pairing: Dantana (DL) in later chapters and Flack/Stella friendship.
I hope this is up to snuff, writing wise! I'll hopefully either have the next chapter up tomorrow or the next day, depending on the amount of reviews I receive:)
Stella Bonasera studied the scene before her. Two bodies, four bullet holes, three rooms, one message on the wall. The first room didn't hold a body, but rather plenty of blood and a note written in blood. They got what they deserved. Stella sighed, wondering who could have killed two people and not given a care.
The second room was home to the first body. The man looked to be in his early forties, maybe late thirties, and was once a handsome man. Of course, the bullets in his forehead detracted from those looks.
The third room contained the final body; another man lay on the floor, two bullet wounds in his chest. His blue eyes were in sharp contrast to the red of the blood. His blonde hair stuck up at odd angles, indicating that there could have been a struggle before he died. In a way, his striking features reminded Stella of Danny, and she instantly started worrying. But she pushed away the thought; Danny was fine, and in one piece.
After working through the first room, Stella needed to get some fresh air. The smell of blood and death was overpowering, and she was starting to feel queasy. She bounced down the steps, taking in deep breaths.
Her eyes were instantly draw to Detective Don Flack, who was leaning against him police car. A phone was pressed to his ear, and he bore an annoyed expression. She walked over to him, nodding to head in hello. He returned the gesture, still listening intently to what the person on the other line was saying. She studied him for a few moments longer. He still bore scrapes and scratches from his injuries caused by the bomb. However, he had bounced back from the ordeal wonderfully; he had started working again in just a month.
She thought about how their friendship had progressed over the months, starting with her attack. After the nightmare with Frankie, Don had been there for her when she needed him. And when he was in the hospital, she was there for him. Since then, they had been out to dinner a few times- just as friends- and it as a friendship that Stella greatly valued.
"Yep, I'm still here." Flack's voice broke her thoughts, and she took her leave; she knew that he wouldn't be available to talk for a while. He was most likely gathering information on their victims that lay inside.
She gave him one last smile, and then started back toward the steps- her break had lasted long enough, and she needed to get back to the bodies. As she wandered back to the house, a radio in the squad car beside her flared to life. The noise of all the activity drowned out most of the information, but Stella gathered the gist of it. Officer involved shooting.
Across town, Lindsay Monroe, Sheldon Hawkes, and Danny Messer were stepping into a scene that seemed pretty simple. The home owners lay dead on their floor, their home broken into. A home invasion gone wrong.
As Danny and Lindsay went up the stairs, Hawkes stayed behind to talk to the police officers. As soon as they entered the house, both Lindsay and Danny could tell that something was not right.
"They cleared the scene, right Montana?" Danny's voice was questioning and tense. He could tell that someone was here, he just didn't know where.
"That's what the officer said. He told me himself that they checked all the rooms, upstairs and down." Danny nodded, but didn't seem convinced. His hand itched to take his gun out of its clip, but he resisted. Everything was fine, he was just being stupid.
They slipped into work-mode easily, Lindsay sticking to the body and Danny was looking around the room. Suddenly, a trail of blood drops caught his eye. He could tell that whoever the blood belonged to had been moving because of the shape of the drops. He followed them with his eyes, and saw that they led to the closet. Both the bodies are in the other room… He thought suspiciously to himself.
"Montana!" Lindsay looked up, an annoyed expression on his face. No doubt it was because Danny had interrupted her.
"What?"
He tried to keep his tone light and joking. "Do you always check your closet before you go to bed?" He hoped that she caught the underlying question.
She looked at him confused, when she noticed his apprehensive stance, the hand on his gun and the way his eyes kept darting to the closet. Suddenly, she understood his question: did the cops check this closet? She thought about if for a few seconds. The man that had talked to her said he had checked all the rooms, but nothing about the closet- they probably hadn't even noticed.
It was one of those doors that your gaze just sort of slid over. Because it was the same color as the room- matched with the fact that is was small- probably caused the police to go right by it, never noticing.
She shook her head, in relation to his question. "No, I don't." She too placed her hand on her gun, drawing it quietly. Together they approached the closet, guns in front of them.
Just as Danny was about to open the door, someone jumped out of the small room. Danny was knocked to the ground, hitting his head roughly on the floor. His eyes closed, and it was obvious that he was unconscious. The man reached down and grabbed Danny's gun from his belt.
The man wheel suddenly, and fired off a few rounds at Lindsay. She rolled to the side just in time, and the bullets missed her. She cursed when she hit the floor. Looking up, she saw that the man was running toward the front door. She jumped up quickly, following him out.
Outside, it was turmoil. Cops were ducking behind their cars for cover, although their guns were drawn. The suspect fired off some rounds, but they bounced harmlessly off of car doors. An officer that Lindsay didn't know stood up and fired off a few rounds of his own. The suspect rolled to the side- much like Lindsay had just moments earlier- and then shot out some more bullets. They were aimed at Lindsay, but she was pushed to the ground by strong arms. She saw Danny's arms wrapped around her, and she suddenly realized that Danny had saved her life.
A gun went off from somewhere behind her, and she saw the suspect go down, blood blossoming from a hole in his chest. A silence descended upon the scene, and slowly officers started to stand up. One of them walked up to the suspect, feeling for a pulse. The man shook his head, signaling that the man was dead.
Lindsay was struggling to get Danny off of her. "Danny, it's safe now. Get up." But Danny wasn't moving. "Danny, get up!" She pushed on his chest, and he rolled limply to the side. "Danny…"
Her question died on her tongue as soon as she saw four splotches of red spreading over Danny's chest. The four shots that had been aimed for Lindsay were now in Danny's chest. She checked for a pulse, and though it was weak, it was there. "I need a medic!" Her shouts penetrated the quiet atmosphere, and instantaneously multiple cops dived for their phones. And Lindsay could do nothing but wait.
She placed her hand over one of the wounds, the one directly over his heart. She pushed on it, trying to stop the blood, but it continued to gush from the wound. Lindsay felt tears start to fall, but she didn't wipe them away. She didn't care.
She looked to Danny's face, trying to keep her eyes from drawing to the horrible red on his chest. His face was not as she expected; instead of being contorted in pain, it had a peaceful look. A breath escaped Danny's lips and she leaned in to hear what he said. "Montana…"
The paramedics had only let her ride in the ambulance because she refused to let go of Danny's hand. And it still took a lot of persuasion of Hawkes' part for them to agree.
The ride to the hospital seemed to take forever. On the way there, Danny had flat- lined five times. Lindsay watched helplessly as they ripped open his shirt, and placed the paddles on his chest.
I always wanted to see him without a shirt... She thought ironically, as they sped toward the hospital. After a long time, the ambulence pulled into the ambulence bay, and the emergency room door swung open. Danny was wheeled in quickly, still in critical condition. He hadn't regained consciousness at all.
Lindsay watched, powerless to help. They rushed him into surgery, and she sat in the waiting room, doing just that; waiting. She sat, waiting for news. News on whether he was alive or dead. News on anything.
As she sat, Lindsay thought of all the things that would never happen if Danny died. She wouldn't get to tell him that she enjoyed their friendship, and that she loved the way he said her name. She wouldn't ever get to hear him call her "Montana" again, or hear the way he teased her when she blushed. She would never get to do so many things with him. She wouldn't ever get to tell him how she felt.
Well? How was it? Good? Bad? The best story you've ever read? The worst ever:)
Please review, and tell me what you think. The faster you review, the faster I'll have up the next chapter! ;)
Charlotte